


Moonlight

by a_colourful_stranger



Series: Kairos 'Verse [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Arthur's super sensitive about Morgana's betrayal, First Kiss, Hurt and comfort, I have no idea what this qualifies as, M/M, Romance, Uther's not dead yet unfortunately, but before series 4, i guess?, in la douleur exquise this part of the story takes place in merlin's flashback in chapter 4, it's mostly canon except for arthur's anxiety and merthur obviously, takes place after series 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 14:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8919922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_colourful_stranger/pseuds/a_colourful_stranger
Summary: On a night full of stress and anxiety, Arthur and Merlin share their first kiss. [A one-shot taken from Chapter 6 of La Douleur Exquise]





	

**Author's Note:**

> So hi! This is a one-shot of a flashback that occurs in the next chapter of my story [La Douleur Exquise](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6393607/chapters/14639065), which... uh, is half-written currently. But I thought I'd post this now before finishing off the chapter since Merlin and Arthur reference it quite a bit. 
> 
> To any readers who haven't read [La Douleur Exquise](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6393607/chapters/14639065), I would recommend reading it, however it isn't necessary. I placed this story 1st in the series because it takes place prior to the events in La Douleur Exquise. It might be a tad confusing but I didn't want several series going on despite all being in the same universe. Please enjoy :)

“Why didn’t you tell me about Morgana?”

His eyes were fixed on the bread in his hand, he avoided looking up to see the vacant look on his father’s face. They sat there together for dinner like they had done thousands of times before, his father at one side of the table and him at the other. He’d ask his father that very question before, almost every time he’d visited—but he is always faced with an echoing silence and his father’s tears. 

He cleared his throat and changed the subject, “We have received letters from Mercia and Caerleon, wishing for your recovery. Gaius thinks I should write them back but sign your name—to give the impression you’re doing better… He says that we should make them think the kingdom is growing stronger again,” he paused, “because with me as acting king, Camelot is weak and vulnerable. He thinks our allies will attack us if they think you’re still sick.”

His father blinked again and looked away from him. Arthur let out a sigh and placed the bread he held in his hand down onto the table. There was no point in talking. His father wasn’t listening. He never listened. 

“Father, please. Talk to me.” His voice cracked, “I-I miss you. I don’t know what I’m doing half the time and I fear I am ruining all of the hard work you’ve put into our home…” He wiped a tear from his face and sucked in a shaky breath. “I cannot do this on my own. I _need_ you.”

The doors shut from behind him and he could hear Guinevere step into the room, “Arthur?” He sat up quickly and wiped his face, hiding his emotion from her. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” He said and turned to her.  Arthur was so grateful for Guinevere and the work she had done since his father became ill. She was helping as much as she could. Her kind eyes and gentle touch was what his father needed right now.

Guinevere placed her hand over his shoulder, “Things like this need time.” He shrugged her hand off and crossed the room towards the door. He appreciated her trying to comfort him but he needed no comfort. He couldn’t let himself fall into the hole his father was in. Camelot would fall along with him. “He is still coming to terms with Morgana’s betrayal, we all are. _You_ are and I know you’re trying to hide it.”

“Guinevere,” Arthur began as he glanced over to his father sitting in the corner of the room. He lowered his voice slightly, “I appreciate you trying to help, I do,” her smile hesitated, “but I’m fine. Perfect, even.”

“I know you’re lying,” she smiled knowingly, “you don’t need to hide anything from me.”

He let out a heavy sigh and changed the subject, “Where is Merlin?”

Guinevere folded her arms across her chest. “He was with Lancelot by the stables. Arthur, you should—”

“Thank you.” Arthur left the room without pausing to listen to what she had to say. He had to get as far away from both her and his father as he could. Anxiety bubbled beneath his skin and he felt as if he was on fire.

He had kept his mask on for so long. He kept up the façade that he was calm, cool and collected. Behind closed doors he was a shaky, emotional mess. He knew he should at least tell Gaius of the onslaught of terror his mind was going through daily—but he couldn’t. He was fearful of what Gaius may think of him. Would the physician see him unfit to rule Camelot? With the king in such a deep depression and the crown-prince haunted by anxiety, Camelot would surely be needing a new ruler. One who could handle the stress without having a nervous breakdown.

He knew it was what happened that was to blame. Morgana was his sister. Morgana was his sister and his father knew. His father knew and didn’t tell him. He was conflicted and confused. He didn’t know how to feel about the situation but what he did know was that he was becoming unhinged.

Arthur took in a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. There was nothing he wanted more than relief from the constant buzzing inside his head. 

“—he’s been fine, at one point he was shivering and I almost threw him onto the back of my horse and rode back here. Turns out the idiot stepped into a puddle and his feet were cold.” It was Lancelot, and Arthur assumed he was referring to Merlin.

“Of course,” The second person, Leon, replied.

“The moment we returned I had Merlin go to Gaius to get a check up just in case. We have no idea whether the curse is actually gone.” Lancelot continued, his voice growing more distant as he spoke. Arthur could hear the distinct sounds of their boots against the stone floors walking farther away towards the knights’ chambers. “Merlin insisted the curse was gone but I want to make sure. He’s only just gotten better.” Leon replied to Lancelot, but they had gone too far for Arthur to pick up anything legible. 

Lancelot had joined Merlin on his trip to Ealdor to see his mother. Hunith had heard word of Merlin’s pneumonia and the curse and asked for Merlin to come see her. Merlin had promised to be back in a week, and Arthur’s only requirements was for him to take Lancelot with him to be careful. Merlin’s health had been something of concern to him recently. The idiot had gone and gotten himself cursed by a witch while they were patrolling the forests looking for Morgana. They had fought—him and Merlin—and Merlin stormed off in a huff, only to be found by Lancelot unconscious and cursed. Arthur couldn’t begin to describe how relieved he had been to see Merlin standing and talking to Lancelot that afternoon. He’d let himself falter and he’d hugged Merlin without even thinking of Lancelot standing a few feet away. He had feared something terrible had happened to his manservant. The idea of Merlin dead because of a stupid argument had terrorized Arthur in those minutes where Merlin was lost. Gwaine wasn’t much help either, spouting off about how his ankle hurt and how the witch was the cause. They could have found Merlin faster if Gwaine had shut up and let Arthur think.

That wasn’t the worst of it though. Merlin had been cursed, unbeknownst the them, and he was overcome with a dangerous cold. There were moments when Merlin’s skin was colder than that of a dead body. He shivered like a newborn foal and he could barely make it two steps without almost tripping over his feet.

When the witch attacked once more when it was only himself and Merlin in the forest, Arthur did what he had to do. He thrust his sword into her body and watched her fall to the ground. He had never looked to see if she was dead, his only concern was if Merlin was alive.

And he was. _Barely_.

He rode back to Camelot faster than he ever had before with Merlin pulled tightly against his chest. He whispered into Merlin’s frozen hair, “Stay with me, Merlin. _Please_.” He begged that Merlin would live, and he did. Gaius and Guinevere worked through the night to make sure he lived—and all the while Arthur watched on. Merlin made it through the night and something… Something happened between them. The mere thought of losing Merlin had pushed Arthur to admit the feelings he was trying to deny for his manservant. His nerves were against him that night but he told Merlin what he felt, “I’ve decided to accept it. No matter what the ramifications.” His father, the people, none of that mattered—all he cared about was Merlin, “My happiness… A-And your happiness, Merlin, they’re more important to me.”

Merlin fell asleep in his arms that night. Arthur tried to stay awake, he tried to relish in this moment as long as he could because he feared in the morning Merlin would wake and tell him it had been the sickness that made him act that way. But when the morning did come, Merlin was warm. He was warm and he was happy. They stayed huddled together in his bed for as long as they could. Arthur knew Gaius would be coming to check on Merlin. He crawled out from under his blankets to sit at Merlin’s side, deeming it safe enough for no one to question their closeness. 

After that, Merlin was bed-ridden for a week with his pneumonia. Arthur tried to visit him as much as he could, but he had work to do. At one-point Merlin said to him, “Go away! You’re supposed to be in a meeting right now, I’m not dying.”

Once Merlin was finally feeling better, Arthur thought they’d have a chance to finally talk about what happened between them—but a letter came from Essetir from Merlin’s mother. She wrote that either he came to visit her or she would come visit him. Merlin chose the former deciding it would be good for him to get some fresh air.

Another week had passed and that was where Arthur was now. Waiting to see Merlin, to talk to him, to escape from his anxiety ridden mind.

The prince made his way to a secluded corridor within the citadel, one where no one would be able to run into him unless they were searching for him. The corridor was long and had large glassless windows that looked on at the forests surrounding the castle. Often, he had found himself here lately. Imagining the forests, he once went to as a child. He tried to envision himself there as he listened to the rustling of the tree branches as the night’s breeze blows through them. He couldn’t very well escape into the wilderness as he once had. Things were far more dangerous than they were when he was a child.

He sighed out loud and placed his hands over the stone. He was about to turn back and head to his chambers when he heard his name being called from behind him, followed by: “I didn’t think I’d find you here.”

Arthur sagged in relief, “I was just leaving.” He glanced over his shoulder and saw Merlin walking towards him, “How are you? I overheard Lancelot mentioning that you were seeing Gaius.”

“I’m as healthy as can be.” Merlin joined him by the window, he leaned against the stone beside Arthur. 

“And your mother? How is she?” Arthur asked him.

“She’s good. She was glad to see me and spend some time with me. I told her she is welcome in Camelot and can stay whenever she likes, I don’t think Gaius would mind.” Merlin shrugged and folded his arms over his chest.

“She can stay in the Citadel,” Arthur found himself saying, “there are enough guest rooms.”

Merlin laughed, “As nice as that sounds, my mother wouldn’t accept that. She’d be too afraid to touch anything. I know when I first became your manservant, I wouldn’t touch anything out of fear something would shatter.”

“Is that why you didn’t do your duties?” Arthur asked with a smirk, “I always assumed you were just being lazy.”

“I am not lazy,” Merlin corrected him, “you were a prat and I didn’t want to work for you.”

“Does that mean I’m not one anymore?” Arthur nudged Merlin’s shoulders with his own.

“You’re an even bigger prat now. The biggest prat in all the world.” Merlin said to him, “The prattiest prat to ever prat.”

“You are an idiot.” Arthur said and Merlin turned away to laugh. His laugh soon turned into a cough and Arthur patted him on the back trying to ease him through the fit.

“T-Thank you,” Merlin said clearing his throat, “Gaius said the cough will be gone soon. He’s given me some syrup to drink in the mornings to help throughout the day.”

“That’s good,” Arthur kept his hand over Merlin’s back and he enjoyed the sensation of feeling warmth through Merlin’s clothes. Since the curse, Arthur would try to touch Merlin whenever he could to feel that Merlin was still warm. When Merlin was first better, he couldn’t take his hands off of him. At first he thought Merlin would push him away or find a reason why Arthur shouldn’t be touching him so much but Merlin welcomed it when they had the chance—as Gaius, Gwen, Lancelot and Gwaine were constantly coming in and out of the room to check on him.  

“My mother asked about you,” Merlin leaned into his touch. “When Lancelot and I entered Ealdor, she was disappointed I didn’t bring you. She asked ‘Where’s Prince Arthur?’ and I told her you were busy in Camelot with all that had happened.” Arthur sighed. He needed a break and staying in Ealdor sounded a lot more pleasurable than having people dress him and shine his boots. “Lancelot did enjoy his time, though. The girls in the village all fawned over him. He didn’t mind it and he played along and flirted, but he wasn’t into it—you don’t even know how glad I am that I didn’t bring Gwaine.” Merlin chuckled quietly and coughed once more. Arthur rubbed his back slightly, letting his hand fall down to the small of his back. Merlin continued on telling him what he did in Ealdor; he and Lancelot cooked dinner for his mother one night and it failed horribly because Hunith distracted Lancelot by telling him about Merlin’s childhood. “On our way back Lancelot almost threw me over his back and raced back because I was shivering. He didn’t believe me when I said I had only stepped in some water and it was cold.”

Arthur smiled slightly, “I overheard him talking to Leon about it. Whenever you shiver now, you are going to have everyone concerned about you.”

Merlin unfolded his arms, “I am not excited in the least. It was bad enough having Lancelot and my mother getting after me for not wearing a sweater at night.”

“It’s a good thing I didn’t come along, I’d be the worst of them all.” Arthur joked and Merlin rolled his eyes. “Autumn _is_ coming,” Arthur went on, “it is already starting to get colder. You should be wearing more clothes at night.”

“It wasn’t the actual temperature that was the problem.” Merlin grumbled defiantly, “it was the curse. Just because it’s a bit chilly outside doesn’t mean I’m going to fall on the ground and die. The first moment I feel unnaturally cold, I will tell someone about it. I am not going to keep quiet about something that might kill me.”

“Okay,” Arthur didn’t know what else to say to that.

Merlin sighed and looked to him, “I’m sorry. You’re all worried about me and I’m being an ass.”

“It’s fine. I understand you don’t want to be seen as something fragile for the rest of your life,” Arthur said and he knew exactly what Merlin was feeling, or at least he thought he did. If he told anyone about his anxiety, he would be in Merlin’s place. The moment he showed any sign of being overwhelmed or anxious, everyone will act as though he was on his death bed. 

Merlin frowned, “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “I’m fine.” He could see in Merlin’s eyes that he wasn’t fooling him. He tried to change the subject, “I’m glad you’re back.”

Merlin smiled, “I’m glad too. I never would have thought I’d miss Camelot or the people. I used to call Ealdor my home, but I don’t think it is anymore. Most of my family is here.”

“Well, of course,” Arthur shifted slightly on his feet, “Gaius is here.”

“Yeah, but I mean family I am not _actually_ related to.” Merlin told him, “Gwen is like my sister. Lancelot is essentially my brother; I am sure my mother is bragging to all the other mother’s in Ealdor about how close she is with her son’s friend that he is practically her second son. The other knights are close enough to be my brothers, too, though I would never let Gwaine meet my mother,” Merlin chuckled. “But yeah, they’re my family. And that makes Camelot my home. If they were all in Caerleon or Mercia, it isn’t the fact they’re in Camelot that makes it home. I mean, I do love Camelot,” Arthur nodded along silently, completely content with letting Merlin ramble on. “I love it here. I don’t think I could ever imagine not considering Camelot home… There’s too much here that means something to me.”

“Yeah,” Arthur said absently.

Merlin looked back to him, “Are you sure everything is all right? You don’t sound like yourself.”

“I really am fine.” Arthur smiled weakly, “Tired.”

“You should go to sleep, then. Come on,” Merlin tried to turn and leave but Arthur stopped him. He grabbed Merlin by the hips and held him in place. Merlin looked back to him confused, “What—”

“I don’t want to go back right now.” Arthur said, trying not to say too much. “Can we stay here for a while?”

Merlin studied him for a moment, “Y-Yeah, of course,” he hesitantly placed hands on Arthur’s shoulders. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Anything.” Arthur said, keeping his own hands firmly on Merlin’s hips.

“Okay,” Merlin smiled, “has Lancelot ever told you how he and Percival met?” Arthur shook his head, “All right, so—” Everything Merlin said was a blur to him. He wanted to listen, he did, but he really couldn’t. The buzzing in his head was growing so strong he was deaf to the world around him.

All he could see was his father’s never-ending depression, Camelot becoming ruined by his own accord and having Morgana being the one person who can take his spot. He wanted things to be the way they had been. He wanted his father to yell passionately at them both for acting out and for Morgana to roll her eyes in defiance. He wanted to be able to sneak away at night to talk to Morgana about all of the stupid stuff they had to put up with to keep Uther happy. He didn’t want to kill her; he didn’t want to have to hurt her. He grew up with her. She knew of his on-and-off anxiety. She was the one person who knew that as a child he explored the forests to get away from the hell within the Citadel. To have her as his enemy, to have her want to _kill_ him was his worst scenario. She knew everything there was about him. She was his sister. She was his sister who wanted to kill him, and their father, and destroy Camelot. His home. Her home. Guinevere’s home. Lancelot’s home. Merlin’s home.

And the one thing that made things worse: Morgana was a witch. She had magic, and it was very strong magic. She could destroy the kingdom with a single flash of her eyes because his father had such a strong hatred for her kind. Morgana had the belief that he, too, had the same beliefs as Uther—but she was wrong. While he didn’t exactly love magic because of things done to him, he wasn’t keen on hanging someone or burning them alive because of the way they were born. You can’t change the way you’re born, that was not how to worked. Her magic was a part of her and while she was angry and poisoned by Morgause’s words, Arthur knew there was still good left in her heart. And when that good returned, he would let her know that he did not care in the least for her magic. Of course, until that happened he was going to face her as an enemy to Camelot.

“—and then Lancelot said, ‘We should put our pants on’ and they… And they—Arthur, what is wrong?” Merlin’s voice pierced through the thick fog in Arthur’s head, “When was the last time you slept? Or had a full-nights sleep?”

Arthur flickered his gaze away, “I-I don’t know.”

“Arthur,” Merlin pressed on.

“A couple weeks,” Merlin’s eyebrows shot up in shock, “It isn’t anything to worry about, Merlin,” Arthur shifted his hands on Merlin’s hips, unconsciously bringing him closer, “I have trouble sleeping sometimes.”

“I have known you for years, you sleep like a log.” Merlin frowned and moved his hand to cup Arthur’s neck. He used to his thumb to push on Arthur’s jaw, forcing them to look into each other’s eyes. Merlin studied him carefully, Arthur could see him trying to figure out what was going on inside of his head. Arthur saw the exact moment something clicked, “Oh, Arthur, you prat.” Suddenly Merlin was pulling him in and hugging him. “You bloody prat.”

“Merlin, what—”

Merlin pulled away, “Why didn’t you just tell me you were stressed?”

“I’m not.”

“Don’t lie to me Arthur Pendragon,” Merlin shook Arthur’s shoulders slightly. “I thought it was something else, _someone_ else.” Arthur frowned at that. Someone else? “You can talk to me about these things, you big dope. This whole situation would give anyone stress, especially you. You’ve got so much going on and so many responsibilities to worry about. You don’t have to handle it all on your own. You’ve got Gwen, Leon, the rest of the knights—and you’ve got me.” Merlin smiled softly, “We are here for you, no matter what—even if you’re being an asshole.”

Arthur laughed tiredly and shook his head, “You know you just insulted me several times? I could have you arrested for that.”

“There’s a prime example of you being an asshole,” Merlin encircled his arms around Arthur’s neck. “You really can talk to me about this stuff. You can’t keep this all in your head, you’ll go mad.”

“I know, I know,” he sighed. “Thank you, Merlin, really. I just, I don’t—”

“You don’t want people thinking you’re weak,” Merlin said for him. “Yeah, I got that from what you said earlier about me not wanting to be fragile. But you know none of us are going to think that. We all have our problems, you can’t be perfect all the time,” Arthur was reminded of what he said to Guinevere earlier on that evening— _I’m fine. Perfect, even._ “You are _the_ strongest man I know. Just because you’re a bit stressed and tired does not mean you are weak.” Merlin shrugged, “You’re Arthur. That’s who you are.”

Without another thought, Arthur kissed him. The kiss caught Merlin off-guard, Arthur could tell by how tense the other man had gotten. Suddenly fear found its way into him and he pulled away, opening his eyes slowly, “I’m sorry, I thought—”

“Stop,” Merlin breathed out slowly and Arthur’s fear intensified, “stop talking.”

“Merlin—”

“Stop.” Merlin whispered against his lips, “You never listen to me. I tell you to stop talking, you keep talking. I tell you there is something dangerous nearby, you go after it anyway. I tell you this is okay, and you turn around and think I’m lying.” Softly, Merlin pressed his lips against Arthur’s only for a moment before continuing on, “I want this, Arthur. I _want_ you.” Arthur flexed his fingers against Merlin’s hips, drawing him in even closer. Merlin kissed him gently, this time not pulling away.

Arthur had kissed many people in his life. Princesses from other kingdoms, a stable-boy when he was a young boy, Guinevere—but none of them compared to kissing Merlin. As cliché as it sounded, he felt as if he had found a missing part of himself. That Merlin somehow made him whole. He had thought Guinevere was that person for him, but his feelings for her were never as strong as they are for Merlin.

Merlin ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair, tugging softly. Arthur groaned into the kiss, pulling Merlin around and pushing him up against the wall. Merlin licked into his mouth and Arthur tightened his grip on Merlin’s hips, wishing more than anything they were in his chambers and not in an empty corridor. He wanted to feel Merlin’s skin against his own and to hear Merlin call out his name. 

He pulled away and Merlin let out a quiet moan, wordlessly begging for him. Arthur opened his eyes to see the moonlight shining down across Merlin’s face, making his skin paler and his kiss-bitten lips more pronounced. The only thing that crossed Arthur’s mind was, _he is beautiful._ He kissed him again, this time softer, more intimate. “I want you, too,” he said to Merlin in a quiet voice, “more than anything.”

“I know,” Merlin smoothed down Arthur’s tousled hair, “I know.”

“We can’t… We can’t tell anyone about us.” Arthur told him, “Nobody can know.”

“I know,” Merlin smiled, “I don’t mind.” He rested his forehead against Arthur’s. They stood together in silence for a while, relishing in the privacy the corridor provided them. Merlin rubbed the nape of his neck gently, “Tell me when you’re feeling stressed or down. You don’t have to fight it alone.” 

“I will.” Arthur kissed Merlin once more, not knowing when the next time he’d be able to kiss him freely, and stepped away. “We should go. They’ll be wondering where we’ve gone.”

 “Yeah,” Merlin moved away from the wall, “let’s go.”

They began walking down the corridor side by side, Arthur itching to place his hand over the small of Merlin’s back but he restrained himself. “How did Lancelot meet Percival?” He asked, trying to distract himself.

Merlin glanced at him with a smirk, “You didn’t hear a word I said earlier?”

“Not at all.”

Merlin sighed loudly, mumbling something about Arthur and listening before he said, “They met about a year ago. Lancelot had been captured by some bandits and was strung up on a tree by his ankles..."

**Author's Note:**

> The rest of Merlin and Arthur's tale can be found in [La Douleur Exquise](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6393607/chapters/14639065).


End file.
